


Drop the Shield

by cleanlittlesecret



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleanlittlesecret/pseuds/cleanlittlesecret
Summary: “Besides, you’re the one who was hurt the most by what happened, so give yourself a break already.”





	Drop the Shield

The mission had sounded simple when Shiro had described it. Of course, Shiro’s plan couldn’t have accounted for how needlessly complicated the engine’s computer system would be, so Hunk was stuck meticulously disemboweling a control station in search of a port for the Galra equivalent of a flash drive while the engine itself—a huge mass of shifting gears and crackling energy—spun just a few yards before him, and the Empire’s continued love affair with dark purple lighting didn’t help.

Broken sentries littered the long walkway stretching between him and the door, and every so often they shot sparks from their wounds or clips of distorted audio from their speakers, fraying Hunk’s nerves further with tiny heart attacks. His mind’s endless loop of _This is getting bad!_ got louder with each passing second, but he focused on Pidge’s voice rasping through the radio in his helmet as his visor’s camera streamed video to her.

“What about behind that panel right there? The one in the upper left corner with the Empire logo on it.”

Hunk found the panel and tried to pry it off, but despite being clearly outlined against the surrounding material, it didn’t have enough of an edge for him to get a grip.

“Maybe Keith can—”

Hunk test-thumped the logo—brittle metal, empty space—and then punched it. The panel caved in under his knuckles, and a low whistle came from Pidge’s end of the call.

“Or you could do that,” she said as he picked out the metal fragments to reveal a small hollow containing a port. “Oh, that’s it!”

Hunk grabbed the flash drive off the top of the station, checked the plug, and lined it up with the port. “Looks like this will work. Are you ready over there?”

“Just a tick—Lance, move. Okay, on my count.”

When Pidge reached one, Hunk pushed the flash drive into the port, then went up on his knees to watch for a reaction. A cartoon version of Pidge’s face appeared on the computer screen, and a metallic screech cut through the room as the engine’s power faded, leaving its machinery to grind to a halt. He stayed crouched behind the station in case something decided to explode, but after a few more seconds the noise died, taking every light in the room with it.

Pidge let out a cheer. “It worked! The power’s out on this end too, and my virus killed that weird particle barrier. Let’s get back out to Shiro—” A high wail echoed from the walls as the lights revived, this time flashing between red and purple. “ _Quiznak._ ”

Lance cut in, “Um, Hunk?”

The engine sat motionless, a jagged metal planet in the center of the room. “Looks like they have a backup generator somewhere.” Hunk glanced at the computer screen, but the Empire’s symbol and a string of Galra writing had replaced the virus cartoon. “Pidge, what about the shield?”

“It’s still down. I wrecked it badly enough that it’ll take them a while to fix it, so I should have enough time to find that generator—”

“Shiro said to get out of here immediately if an alarm went up.”

“It’ll take me just a dobash,” Pidge said. “I’ll find that generator and break it real quick, and then we can all get out of here. You and Keith can go back and make sure nobody messes with the Green Lion before we get there.”

Hunk groaned, snatched the flash drive from the port, and turned to run towards the door. Geez, why did aliens love long walkways so much? Broken sentries got kicked out of the way and over the edge as he said, “Listen, Pidge, we need to just go. Knocking out their shield gives us a serious advantage already, and any generator they have that’s small enough for us to miss on the scan can’t support a ship this big for long.” He reached the entry platform and grabbed a sentry’s arm to unlock the door. “Besides, we still need to get the other Lions—” The door slid open to reveal the hallway outside was empty. Hunk stopped and let out a heavy sigh. “ _Aaaand_ Keith’s gone.”

“What—now?!” Lance snapped. “Where the heck did he go?!”

“I’ll find him,” Hunk said. “But, Pidge—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I’m doing. See you back at the Lion. Call if you need anything. Let’s go, Lance.” She hung up, and in the relative quiet that followed, Hunk sighed again. Well, she had Lance for backup, and at the moment, finding Keith had to be Hunk’s first concern.

As he ran to the other end of the hallway, Hunk connected to Keith’s radio signal, and the call flooded his helmet with noise: harsh breathing, the clank of metal hitting metal. His stomach tightened. “Hello, Keith?” No response, but when Hunk used the sentry’s arm as a makeshift key again, he got his answer. The door opened to a larger hall infested with sentries and soldiers, all of them swarming around something he couldn’t see. Hunk dropped the robotic arm to summon his gun. “Keith, if you’re in there, then get down!”

The shout turned some heads toward him, but it was too late—Hunk let loose, and it didn’t take him long to mow down every one of the Galra. With the hall cleared for the moment, he made his Bayard disappear and waded into the mess. “ _Keith!_ ” Even with the alarm blaring above him, he kept his voice down as he searched for anything familiar, and when he spotted a pale blue shield, he knelt to shove away a sentry’s remains, grab Keith, and yank him up. “Come on! We gotta go!”

Keith didn’t react. His arms stayed limp in Hunk’s hands, and his head lolled back. Mind racing from adrenaline, Hunk couldn’t wait—he grabbed Keith under the arms, dragged him back to the engine room’s hallway, and used one of his hands to lock the door. Once they were relatively safe, he carefully laid Keith next to the wall, and with his gaze set on the door, he called the others.

Lance answered first. “Hunk? What is it?”

“I found Keith, but he was fighting some Galra, and—and—he’s…” He had made the mistake of letting his eyes drift down to the floor. A dark trail led from the doorway to Keith, something hard to see in the flashing emergency lights, but it crushed Hunk’s throat shut. He crept back to Keith’s side, slowly, as if he now feared waking him, and through the shaky blur of adrenaline, he took in the new red markings smeared across the white armor.

In pulses of dark red and purple, Hunk really saw Keith for the first time since he’d stayed behind to guard the door—white armor scratched and wrenched loose, black material cut open along his sides, visor fragmented with spider-web cracks. Blood trickled from his split lip, pooled under his back.

Hunk froze, his skin turning clammy inside his armor. Keith was hurt, Keith was _bleeding,_ they were always fighting, but something this bad had never happened before— _this should not have happened._ Voices called inside his helmet, but they were distant, shouting at him through the void of space. Heat smothered him, and there was no air here, nothing—

“Keith, Hunk, answer me.” Shiro’s voice broke through, solid and real, and Hunk forced himself to swallow.

“Hunk here.” The words came out low and cracked, but two held breaths were released on the other lines.

Shiro was steady. “That’s good. What about Keith?”

“Shiro…” The voice startled Hunk and drew him back into the room. Keith had opened his eyes halfway, and when Hunk knelt beside him, his gaze crawled over to Hunk’s face.

“Hey, buddy. It’s me.” Searching for words in his buzzing head, he tried to sound as warm as possible despite how his throat wanted to close again. “How are you feeling?”

Dark, glassy eyes stared back at him. The damage to Keith’s helmet and mouth suggested head trauma, so he was probably even more disconnected from his surroundings than Hunk felt. When he tried to sit up, Hunk placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pinned him down.

“Sorry, but you shouldn’t get up.” Hunk turned his head to watch the door and kept his voice low. “Shiro, he’s really hurt. Some Galra tore him up. We have to get him back to the Castle.”

Keith let out a mumble close to, “I’m fine,” before his eyes slipped shut.

“Can you guys move?” Shiro said.

“Keith’s out, but I can carry him. My real problem is outside. The Galra know we took out the engine, so they’ll attack this hall, and it’ll be hard to fight our way out with Keith like this.”

“We’ll come help!” Lance said. “Me and Pidge can clear the way, so you focus on getting Keith out.”

“And I’ll distract the Galra from out here with the Black Lion,” Shiro said. “All right, everyone return to the Green Lion and go back to the Castle. We’ll have to take this ship down later.”

A burst of silence answered him. The warship’s security would tighten after this, so a later attempt might become a suicide mission, and they all knew it. But they also knew they couldn’t form Voltron without Keith and the Red Lion. They knew Shiro was trying to keep their morale up.

“Got it. We’re on our way,” Pidge said.

Turning his attention to his new job, Hunk slid his hands under Keith’s shoulders and head to carefully sit him up, but when he felt the slight _stick_ between the armor and the floor, gross heat crawled up his throat. Keith had been stabbed in the lower back, just under where the chestplate ended, and a small puddle of his blood was already drying to the floor. Cringing, Hunk tore his eyes away, only to find Keith staring at him again.

Hunk forced a smile. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get you into a pod in no time.” It felt like he was talking to himself—although the dark eyes were open, he wasn’t really being seen, and when Keith slipped away again, Hunk picked him up and settled him over his shoulder. He moved slowly to avoid causing any more damage, but it was hard to balance thanks to Hunk’s shaking hands and Keith’s dead weight—no.

Not dead.

Keith wasn’t dead. He wasn’t going to die here. Unconscious, he couldn’t work to keep his balance—that was all.

The door shot open, making him jerk away with a yelp, but it was Pidge, holding a sentry’s disembodied hand to the outside scanner. “Sorry, it’s just us.” She hesitated, her mouth still open while she took in the injured Keith and the blood staining Hunk’s armor as he got to his feet.

Lance stood behind her in the hall, his gun aimed back the way they had come. He didn’t look. “Hunk, you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Hunk stepped out into the hall, and when the door closed, Pidge stabbed the scanner with her Bayard to lock the Galra out of the engine room. How much further was it to the Green Lion and safety?

* * *

Keith woke to vague sensations—a cold which numbed his skin, a sound which tingled in his ears—but the pressure in his legs caught his attention—was he standing? How had he fallen asleep like that? He opened his eyes to look around, blinking. A pale suit clung to his body, and the narrow walls of a cryo-pod curved around him. The infirmary.

He stepped forward, wobbling on stiff legs, and rubbed his arms as the pod disappeared into the floor behind him. What time was it? The infirmary’s dim lighting suggested night, but whatever internal clock he’d had after weeks in space had been thrown off by the magically induced coma, and he was still too disoriented to read an Altean clock.

His welcoming committee was out cold. Coran and Shiro sat side-by-side against the infirmary’s control station: Coran with his legs stretched out, his head resting back against the machine, and his mouth open as he snored; Shiro with his legs hugged to his chest and his face hidden in his knees. Had they fallen asleep waiting for him? It must have been night then, or at least, nighttime by the Castle’s clock. On the floor beyond the steps lay Hunk, curled on his side with his head pillowed on his arm, and the sight of him dumped fragmented memories into Keith’s head.

There had been pain—a scream from his back, a roar inside his skull—and the thought, _I can die here_. There had been Shiro, talking in his head. There had been Hunk’s voice, coming from miles away. If Keith was in the infirmary now, then he must have survived that fight, but what about the mission?

Well, he could find out what had happened when he was out of this horrible suit and back in some actual clothes. After glancing around to ensure the others were still asleep and there wasn’t anybody in the infirmary he didn’t know about, Keith snuck to the door, slipped outside, and hurried to his own room.

A few minutes later, he was pulling his jacket on when his bedroom door beeped to signal it was about to open. Something slammed into the door, making him jump.

“Keith! Are you in there?!” It was Hunk, voice teetering on the edge of breaking, banging on the door so hard the whole room echoed like a drum. Too overwhelmed by the barrage to open like it normally would, the door screeched an alarm, but when Keith stepped closer, the motion sensor activated and shot it open.

“I’m—”

“ _Keith!_ ” Hunk burst into the room and engulfed him in a massive hug which shoved his face into Hunk’s shoulder. “I’m so glad to see you!”

_Ow._ Keith had been on the receiving end of a so-called Hunk Hug before, but that time on the couch was nothing compared to this. While pulling him forward and up, the hug had forcing him on tiptoe to keep his balance, pinned his left arm to his side, and trapped his right arm between their bodies with his hand on Hunk’s chest. Keith pushed against Hunk to give himself room to uncover his face and yell, “ _Hunk—_ ”

“I love you, man!”

Keith tensed as heat blasted into his face. It was because of the hug, because Hunk was squeezing all the blood out of his torso and into his head. That had to be it. That had to be why the world was spinning too—either that, or the Castle was doing donuts in space, and he was the only one to notice. Regardless of the cause, his brain was overwhelmed all at once, and then crashed into numb silence.

Hunk didn’t let go until he tried to wheeze in some air.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to crush you to death.”

The pressure changed into two squeezes on Keith’s arms.

“I’m just so happy you’re okay!”

The voice slowed down.

“You are okay, right?”

Was he supposed to answer?

“…Keith?”

“I’m fine,” Keith managed, forcing himself to blink. Even with his feet flat on the floor, the dizziness persisted. Had the Castle’s gravity shifted, turning reality into a tilted painting? The grip on his arms worked to ground him some, but Hunk’s voice had picked up speed again, and he couldn’t grasp what was being said to him. He barely caught something like _I’ve thrown up five times since you were put in that pod,_ but when his eyes widened, a sheepish chuckle cut off the words.

“Yeah, my stomach doesn’t handle stress too well.” Hunk let go, stepped back, and rubbed the side of his neck. “I couldn’t really do anything but worry while you were out, so I barely kept anything down.” By this time, Shiro and Coran had appeared in the hall behind him, both of them peeking into the room with soft smiles, and Keith crossed his arms on reflex. How long had they been standing there? Had they seen what happened?

“That looked like a magnitude 8.2 hug. Probably a little too much for someone who just came out of a coma.”

Hunk blinked, then turned to reveal Pidge standing behind him in the hallway. She still had on green pajamas, and her bed hair had swirled into a brown nest. “Oh, morning, Pidge!”

“Good morning, I guess.” She pushed her glasses up her nose so she could yawn behind her hand.

Hunk’s eyes flicked over as he noticed Coran and Shiro too, then his face lit with a grin. “Hey, are you guys hungry? I’m starving, and Keith here could probably use some food after how long he spent in that pod, so I’m going to whip up some breakfast.”

Before Keith could protest that he wasn’t hungry, Pidge’s eyes brightened. “Really? Sweet! I’m sick of Coran’s stuff!”

“Wh-What’s wrong with my cooking?” Coran put his hands on his hips and leaned forward to stare at her, but Pidge tilted her head, caught Shiro’s gaze, and raised her eyebrows.

“That sounds great, Hunk.” Shiro ignored Coran’s squawk. “We’ll go see if Lance and Allura are still up.”

“And I’ll go set the table!” Pidge said.

“Okay, see you guys in a little bit!” Hunk bolted down the hall towards the kitchen with Pidge following at his heels.

“Wait, Pidge!” Coran yelled. “What about…!” But she was gone, which left him to mutter, “Ungrateful little Paladin,” and twirl one end of his moustache around his finger. After a long string of grumbling, he turned to look at Keith. “You should have seen that Hunk after he saw the cryo-replenisher was gone. Once I explained you definitely weren’t trapped in the floor somewhere, he took off running like a Xznly Squiwl was after him, and not even young Shiro here could catch up!”

“O…kay.” Keith had the feeling he’d gotten only the tail end of Coran’s line of thought. At least the Castle was stabilizing around him now.

“Well, I’m going to see if Princess Allura is in the mood for breakfast.” Coran started down the hallway but called over his shoulder as he went, “It’s nice to have you back, Keith. Good luck with Lance!” He threw a quick wave just before turning the corner, and once Coran was gone, Shiro grabbed Keith’s attention with a pat on the shoulder.

“Good to see you moving around again. Everyone was worried about you.”

Keith’s shoulders drooped. “Sorry for causing trouble.”

Shiro’s mouth settled into a firm line. “You don’t need to apologize to me. If you want to say sorry, then it should be to someone else.” He gestured down the hall, his prosthetic arm grinding softly in the quiet. “Hunk blamed himself for what happened because he was partnered with you. It may not be obvious now, but he was an anxious mess the entire time you were in the pod.”

_But it wasn’t his fault._ The words hung in the air, unspoken, unnecessary. They both knew. Keith nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”

Shiro’s expression warmed into a smile. “Now, since he’s going through the trouble of making everyone breakfast at approximately three in the morning, I think you’re obligated to go and eat, even if you aren’t that hungry.” A laugh at Keith’s scowl. “Some food won’t kill you, especially if Hunk’s the one making it.” He pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb, apparently aiming for the room next door. “So, which one of us is going to check on Lance?”

* * *

What kind of kitchen had an oven mounted in the wall but no stovetop? Asking Coran had led to raised eyebrows and a solid thirty minutes of reminiscing about when the Castle had first been built, which was informative, yes, but did little to answer the question, so Hunk had taken the matter into his own hands and jury-rigged something with a small torch and a wire rack. The setup stayed in the sink just in case something got knocked over or caught fire, and a baking sheet served as a makeshift pan. It was less than ideal, but it did work, and the gentle beep of Pidge’s Earth timer on the counter gave it an air of home.

Life in space was easier when Hunk had work to do, something to focus on so he wouldn’t feel powerless and stranded. Cooking usually helped, but after racing back to the Castle in the Green Lion and rushing Keith into a cryo-pod, Hunk couldn’t focus enough to do even that. His attempts had resulted in spilled ingredients, dropped plates, and the birth of a poisonous new dish, so Coran had offered to take over kitchen duty, which left Hunk with little to do but sit in the infirmary and worry.

Now, he couldn’t hold back from humming a song and bouncing his weight from one leg to the other as he cooked. A small pool of batter gently bubbled on his pan, and seven plates sat on the counter, each one bearing a short stack of flat cakes. Everyone else was probably in the dining room by then, talking or goofing around or falling asleep on the table, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurry. It was nice to have some quiet time to unwind and indulge in something he loved, and he was so absorbed in flipping the cake and watching it cook, he barely registered the footsteps drifting into the kitchen.

“Hey.”

Hunk jumped, looking up to find Keith standing just a couple feet from him. “Oh, hey—” He scooped the cake up, set it on a stack, and turned off the torch. “—Keith!” A look-over of his makeshift stove to ensure nothing would start burning without his attention, then he turned back to Keith. “Do you need something?”

“To get away from Lance.”

“Wow, you two are fighting again already?”

“No, he’s just in there talking out of his head.”

Hunk let out a sheepish chuckle as bits of 3 AM conversations in the Garrison came back to him. Lance’s mouth tended to wander into loopy _Do you think Pidge has feelings?_ territory when he couldn’t sleep. “Yeah, he does that sometimes. Give him a little while, and he’ll get over it.”

“I hope so. He’s been rambling some nonsense about mermaids for over ten minutes.” Keith looked down at the counter, and his eyes narrowed before he took an Altean spork and lifted a cake to inspect it. “Are these…pancakes?”

“That depends. Do you like pancakes?”

Keith raised his head and shrugged. “Uh, sure, I guess.”

“Then they’re basically pancakes. Which happen to be green on the inside. Because their main ingredient is food goo.” Hunk watched his face for a reaction, but Keith set the spork down beside the plate.

“Maybe Pidge will get a kick out of that.”

Hunk grinned. “Then she could help me with my next project: eggs and ham.” A little laugh at the idea, but when Keith gave him a stare, he tilted his head. “You know…like the book.”

Question marks swarmed behind Keith’s eyes, but all that came out of his mouth was, “What book?”

Hunk’s smile faded. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought everyone…” The words trailed off as his brain digested what had just happened.

Of course, he didn’t have much knowledge of Keith’s life before the Garrison—or even _at_ the Garrison, if he was being honest—but for some reason, he’d assumed. Maybe _projected_ was a better word. Either way, he knew little about Keith beyond what he’d seen with his own eyes over the past few weeks, a tiny and chaotic slice of Keith’s life, and that realization came hand-in-hand with another: he wanted to know more. What did they share, and what was unique?

But at the moment, Keith was making the same expression he’d worn after misunderstanding Lance’s cheer back on Arus, so Hunk scrambled to fix his mess. “ _Green Eggs and Ham_ —it’s a children’s book, Lance can recite the whole thing from memory, and I can try talking him into doing it for you later, if you want.” He turned to the plates. “Do you want to try one of these before we take them all in there to the others?”

“Sure?” Keith jerked back when a loaded spork was shoved in his face. The pancakes had all been cooked with precise timing to a soft brown color, but like Hunk had said, the insides were green.

Hunk made his toothiest grin. “Here comes the spaceship, requesting permission to land!” After raising an eyebrow at him, Keith took the spork from his hand and tried the pancake. “So how is it?”

“A little weird. Different from what I ate on Earth.” Keith swallowed the bite and smiled. “But it’s good. Everything you cook is good.” Obviously, he had no idea what had happened in the kitchen while he was recovering—should Hunk tell him?

“What’s taking so long in here?”

The smile slipped from Keith’s mouth as they both looked towards who had spoken. In the kitchen doorway, Lance stood with his hands on his hips, dressed in his bathrobe, pajamas, and slippers. When he caught their gazes, he tilted his head.

“What are you guys doing?”

“I made something from a new recipe, so Keith was being a taste-tester for me,” Hunk said as Lance approached the counter to examine the food.

“Pancakes?”

“Basically.” Keith gave Hunk a look, and Hunk returned it with a pantomimed shushing gesture that knocked a snort from both of them. The exchange earned them an arched eyebrow from Lance, but just as he opened his mouth, Hunk grabbed two plates.

“Anyways, the pancakes are all finished, and Keith said they’re good, so let’s go eat. Here.” Pushing the plates into Keith’s hands, Hunk gave him just enough time to take them before he turned to load Lance’s hands too.

Lance cheered, “Aww, yeah! I’m starving!” But Keith looked up, a thought darting across his face.

“Wait, Hunk, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Lance sighed. “Can’t it wait? People are dying here!”

“You can go ahead. I just want to talk to Hunk.”

“Yeah? About what?”

Oh, boy, where was Shiro when they needed him? Keith narrowed his eyes at Lance, but before a squabble could erupt, Hunk distracted him with another plate. “Here, Keith. since you’ve already eaten a little from this one, you can carry it.”

“Huh?” Caught off-guard, Keith brought his hands close together on reflex so Hunk could set the plate across his forearms. It worked—the argument died as he was forced to focus on balancing the third plate, and when Lance started to laugh, Hunk spun _him_ around and pushed him towards the door.

“Go on. We’ll be right behind you.” Hunk grabbed the last two plates, and when he caught Keith’s look, he smiled. “I’m hungry too, so whatever it is you want to talk about, I’ll listen to you later. I promise.”

Keith let out a slow breath, steadying the plates as he set his shoulders. “Okay. Later then.”

“Come on, guys!” Lance hounded them until they caught up to him in the hall. When the dining room’s door slid open to let them all in together, Pidge greeted them with a cheer, and Hunk grinned.

“Happy early breakfast, everyone! I made pancakes! And Keith’s back!”

The dining room always felt too big for their team, just like the rest of the Castle, but at least having everyone together brought life to the space. Like Pidge and Lance, Allura had been in her room trying to sleep when Keith woke, so her hair tumbled freely over her nightgown as she sat beside Pidge at the table. Lance set a plate before her with an exaggerated wink.

“Gourmet pancakes for the lovely Sleeping Beauty—” His other plate went to Pidge. “—and some grub for the tech gremlin.” Pidge stuck her tongue out at him as he took the seat next to hers. Ignoring them both, Allura leaned forward to blink at the food.

“What are… _pan-cakes?_ ”

“Something we eat on Earth.” Armed with knife and spork, Pidge cut into a pancake. “They’re a breakfast thing, and normally you drown them in butter and syrup to make them taste better.” She squinted. “Oh. That’s weird.”

“Is it bad?”

“No, it’s just that pancakes typically aren’t green. Is this food goo?” With a shrug, Pidge cut the piece off and popped it into her mouth. Allura watched as she chewed, swallowed, and grinned. “These are great!”

“Hmm.” Allura peered at her own pancakes as Pidge dug in, but after cutting an edge off and slowly chewing it, she smiled. “You’re right, Pidge. These _are_ good.”

“Ladies, please. I’m right here.” Across from Allura, Coran sat with his elbows on the table, his cheek resting against one hand as he stared into his cup, tilting it so the drink swirled around inside. Allura glanced at Pidge with a question in her eyes, but Pidge looked away to take a long sip from her own cup, so the Princess leaned forward.

“Coran, we didn’t mean anything bad about your cooking. You know I love your food, and we all appreciate the effort you made to keep us well fed.”

Coran dragged his gaze over to Pidge, and she hid in her cup again. Allura got his attention by cutting a bite from her own plate and standing to reach towards him. Given how wide the table was, the spork stopped a foot away from Coran’s face.

“Here, try the pancakes. Hunk was nice enough to make them for us, after all.”

A long stare at Allura’s warm smile and bright eyes, then Coran plucked the bite off the spork and tried it. With everybody watching, he sat back and crossed his arms. “…Well, yes, I suppose they do taste rather good.” He looked up to find Keith waiting beside his chair with the last plate in his hands. Everyone else had been served already, so Coran accepted the plate. “Thank you for the meal, Hunk.”

Hunk had already taken the open seat next to Lance and started in on his food, but he stopped for a, “You’re welcome!” Keith sat in the chair beside Shiro and across from Lance, and with everything settled, breakfast could truly begin. For a few minutes, the dining room warmed with the sounds of everyone eating their pancakes, Allura and Pidge whispering to each other, and Shiro telling Keith what had happened around the Castle while he was out. Soaking in the feeling of good food and better friends, Hunk’s chest felt open and light, and he was content to stay quiet and enjoy this time.

The end began with Keith’s question: “What about the Galra warship? How did the mission turn out?”

Shiro hesitated, so Lance beat him to it. “ _Welmph—_ ” He swallowed to clear his mouth. “—we had to leave because you decided to take a nap on us.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed, but Shiro cut in, “What Lance means is you were unconscious and injured, so making sure you got treatment as soon as possible took priority over the mission. We retreated to the Castle and through a wormhole so the Galra couldn’t launch a counterattack, and we’ve been keeping our heads down while we waited for you to recover.”

“Then when are we going back?”

Shiro frowned; Allura and Coran shared a glance from the corners of their eyes; Hunk, Lance, and Pidge exchanged grimaces. Keith caught all of it.

“We are going back, right?” His gaze traveled around the table. “Those Galra can still hurt people, so we can’t abandon the mission.”

“We’re not abandoning it,” Shiro said, “but for now, we need to move onto something else.”

“ _What?_ ”

Shiro’s voice stayed firm. “That attempt failed, and if we go back now and try the same thing again, we’ll definitely run into more trouble. The Galra will know what to expect, especially the viruses Pidge made. Besides, they could be in an entirely different galaxy by now.”

“So we’re giving up? Just like that?”

“You’re the only one here talking about giving up,” Lance said.

Hunk winced. “Uh, Lance, could you not—” Keith shoved his chair back, but before he could stand, Shiro grabbed his arm.

“That’s enough, Keith!”

Everyone else blinked, and even Keith’s eyes widened a bit. A sharp look pinned him to his seat.

“There’s more to fighting a war than just hitting the opponent with everything you’ve got, and I know you know that. The mission failed, and we’re going to try again at a later time. Decisions like this are the only thing that is going to keep everyone here safe, so you can’t let stubbornness prevent you from thinking clearly. Do you understand?”

“…Yeah.” Keith pulled his arm free and drew his chair closer to the table. “Fine.” He returned to his food, the conversation apparently ended, but the others hesitated. What had he been planning to do when he stood? Why had it taken so little to set him off?

Coran’s forced laugh died within seconds. “Well, I’m sure we’re all tired right now, so a little temper is nothing to worry about. Let’s finish our meal and go to bed, and everything will be brighter and better in the morning.”

Hunching over, Hunk fidgeted with his spork. This get-together had been his idea, and the way it had turned out soured his stomach. A hand landed on his arm, and he raised his head to find Pidge leaning across Lance to reach him. Both of them watched him with soft eyes.

“They were going to have this conversation eventually anyways,” Pidge whispered.

“Yeah, I know.” Forcing himself to sit up, he gave his friends a smile, and Pidge nodded before retreating to her seat. As low noise crept back into the room, Hunk kept an eye across the table—Keith’s head stayed down, and his eyes refused to meet with anyone. He hadn’t sounded _fine_ , and if Hunk knew anything about him, then this conversation wasn’t over yet.

* * *

Keith was a terrible liar.

Or at least, he was terrible at hiding things: emotions and thoughts, the logo on his knife, his planet-colonizing alien heritage. Basically the same thing as being a terrible liar, right?

So instead, he spent the day doing what came natural: avoiding everyone. Then when the Castle’s lights finally dimmed for the night, he put on his armor and, with his helmet tucked under one arm, snuck to the Red Lion’s hangar on foot, avoiding the zipline route in case it would trigger an alarm. The Lion sat in its usual spot in the hangar’s red light, but when Keith spotted something between its front feet, he stopped.

Hunk sat leaning against the side of an enormous robotic paw, his head resting on the metal as he snored. Although it was bedtime, he still wore his day clothes—how long had he been waiting?

A twitch jumping across his cheek, Keith took the last steps to reach the Lion. There went his hope of at least getting outside without anyone finding out. He had wanted to get some distance from the Castle before anyone started after him, but it would be dangerous to leave in the Red Lion with Hunk in the hangar. After drawing a breath in through his teeth, he leaned down to shake Hunk’s shoulder.

“Five more minutes, Mom,” Hunk mumbled, turning his head.

Keith scowled. “Hunk, wake up—” Yelping, Hunk bolted upright, and Keith jumped back, his helmet clattering to the floor. As the helmet rolled between their feet, Hunk blinked at Keith, looked around, and made a sheepish grin.

“Sorry for yelling like that.”

Keith crossed his arms. “What are you doing in here?”

“I was about to ask you the same question.” Hunk laced his fingers together and set his chin on top. “So who goes first?” When Keith looked away, he hummed. “Man, you really have gotten easier to read. Didn’t you learn anything from that time with the exploding pod?”

“This is different.”

“Sure it is.” Hunk got to his feet, took a few steps past Keith, and stretched his back until it popped. Maybe he was giving Keith time to offer an argument, but Keith remained silent, so Hunk turned to face him. “You’re going after that warship.”

“We can’t just _move on_ because it didn’t work the first time. A Galra ship that big could hurt a lot of people.”

“Yes, I get that. I also get that you’re blaming yourself for the mission failing. You’ve been doing that ever since you got out of the cryo-pod.”

Keith focused on the Red Lion, but he caught Hunk’s sigh.

“Honestly, Keith, what will you do all by yourself? You can’t take down something that big with just your Lion, and you don’t even know where the ship is. More importantly, you could get hurt again, and—”

“Fine by me,” he mumbled. It was a thoughtless comment, an offhand shot at stopping Hunk’s argument, and for a few seconds, it worked. Then Hunk’s voice rose.

“No, that’s not _fine!_ You shouldn’t be _trying_ to get hurt!”

Keith started to turn. “That’s not what I—” But a flash in the air caught his eye, and he darted forward, slipping through just before a barrier closed around the Red Lion.

“Wait, Keith!” Locked out, Hunk could do no more than hit the barrier with his hand as Keith stood between the Lion’s front feet.

“Come on, Red, open up! We’re leaving.”

It didn’t budge.

Keith retreated a few steps to see the Lion’s face: the eyes were dim. His hands formed fists at his sides. “ _RED!_ ” Still no response, and when a tightness rushed up his chest and constricted his throat, he whirled and slammed a fist into the barrier. Pain crackled across his knuckles as the dull thud echoed weakly off the distant walls and high ceiling.

On the other side of the barrier, Hunk looked up. “Wow. I can’t believe that carried.” He chuckled—what about this was funny?

Keith’s head filled with noise—sparking from the pressure in his chest, growing with all the thoughts he couldn’t even begin to sort out—and before it could overwhelm him, he reacted. His forehead collided with the barrier, and the pain cut through the buzz, giving him something clear to focus on.

Hunk’s voice cracked. “What did I just say about trying to get hurt?”

Keith sighed, his forehead still pressed against the barrier, the pain spreading around his skull and settling into a general ache. With his eyes down, he could see Hunk’s boots on the floor before him. “I can’t get anything right.”

“What are you talking about?”

Closing his eyes left Keith with only the barrier’s touch to keep him grounded. It was easier to talk like this. “Back on the warship, I was already out in the hall when the power went off. I had left the engine room’s hallway to take a look around, but when the lights came on and the Galra showed up, I got surrounded. We failed because I got impatient and screwed up.”

Time stretched as the words sank in. When Hunk finally spoke, it was calm and a bit light, so different from the gravity weighing Keith’s body down. “I don’t think anyone on the team would be surprised to hear you did that, and to be honest, you’re not the only person who got impatient on that mission. After we realized there had to be a generator on the ship, Pidge decided to go looking for it with Lance to back her up, so if you hadn’t derailed things, they could have run into serious trouble. Shiro gave her a lecture about it after we got home.”

The information crawled, having to fight through the noise lingering in his brain, and Keith forced a breath down to keep from headbutting the barrier again.

“Besides, you’re the one who was hurt the most by what happened, so give yourself a break already.”

“Shiro told me how worried you were,” jumped from his mouth without Keith thinking about it. He opened his eyes and moved back from the barrier to look up. “He said you blamed yourself for how I got hurt, but it was my fault, not yours, and—I’m sorry. For all of it.” _Better late than never, I guess._

But Hunk shook his head. “I don’t want an apology, Keith.” He crossed his arms. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, it’s practically part of my job to worry about you guys. I mean, yeah, it was _awful_ seeing you like that, and I probably cut five years off my life in the infirmary, but if you want to—I don’t know—make it up to me or whatever, don’t do it by running off in the middle of the night on a suicide mission. Do the whole team a favor and stop beating yourself up over one mistake, okay?”

The request went against his instincts, against the urge pushing him to continue the fight until the end, but that feeling was the stubbornness talking, and Hunk had asked for something different. Keith took a slow breath and nodded. “Okay.” He turned to face the Lion. “I’ve changed my mind, Red. We’re not going anywhere tonight, so you can let me out now.” When still no response came, he groaned. “Incredible.” A glance over his shoulder at Hunk. “Do you think the Princess could get her to let me out of here?”

“Let me try.” Hunk backed up a few steps and waved his arms in the air. “Hey, pretty kitty! Down here!”

Keith slowly turned to give him a direct look with narrowed eyes and lowered eyebrows: _Really?_

But Hunk missed the expression as he cupped his hands around his mouth. “I’m Hunk, the Yellow Paladin, and my buddy Keith here needs to come out now. Think you can turn off that shield for him?” For a few seconds, it looked like he had been ignored as well, but then the shield deactivated. Keith blinked when the barrier between them disappeared, but Hunk grinned and waved at the Lion again. “Thank you so much!” He looked at Keith. “I think your Lion likes me!” His grin was so bright that Keith couldn’t help giving a little smile in return.

“I guess so.” Keith glanced towards the Lion—aloof and stoic as always, even though it no doubt knew what they were talking about—and then returned his gaze to Hunk. “Thanks, Hunk.”

“You’re welcome!” After a beat, his head tilted. “For what?”

“For talking to my Lion, and for saving me back on the warship—and for stopping me here. Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Oh. No problem.” A yawn slipped from his mouth, and Hunk stretched his arms. “Well, now that that’s over, I’m beat. It’s way past my bedtime, and in the morning, we have to go back to saving the universe again.” He started towards the door, stopped for a moment, and turned back. “Do you have any requests for lunch tomorrow? What do you like to eat?”

Keith’s mind went blank—he’d spent so much time living on cafeteria meals from the Garrison, canned food at his shack, and alien dishes in the Castle, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d considered what he actually wanted to eat, but Hunk was waiting, so he grabbed the first memory to come to him from his life before all that. “Can you make chili?”

“I can make something close! Will alien chili be good enough?”

“Anything you cook will be good.”

“Aw, thanks.” Hunk’s grin widened even more, if that was possible. “Then tomorrow, go to the kitchen after breakfast, and we’ll make some chili.” The mental equivalent of a record scratch sounded between Keith’s ears.

“What?” He shook his head. “That’s a horrible idea. You do not want me in that kitchen.”

“No, it’s a great idea, and yes, I do.” Hunk put his hands on his hips. “I can’t be the only person on the team who knows how to cook something decent. What are you guys going to do if I get knocked out of commission one day? Eat Coran’s stuff?”

Keith cringed at the memory of the Paladin Lunch, but he shook his head again. “I don’t know how to cook—”

“Duh, that’s why I’m going to be there. If I can teach a full-blooded Galra the fundamentals of cooking in an afternoon, then surely I can show _you_ how to make a pot of chili.”

Was that meant to be a joke about him being part-Galra? He couldn’t tell, but knowing Hunk, probably. Keith scowled, but Hunk met him with an equally stubborn look, and after a long stare-off, he sighed. “All right. I’ll help you cook the chili.”

“Great! I’m looking forward to it already.”

Keith’s mouth twitched with the impulse for a smile, but he forced it down. “If that’s all, then go to bed. I want to stay in here for a minute.” When he noticed Hunk’s raised eyebrow, he crossed his arms. “I’m not leaving the Castle.”

Hunk nodded. “If you say so.” He scooped the helmet from the floor and returned it to Keith. “Better not leave this here. Make sure you get a good night’s rest because tomorrow, we _cook._ ”

“Yes, I got it. Good night.” Keith watched until the hangar’s doors closed behind Hunk, then looked down at the helmet in his hands. His fingers drummed on the sides as a strange lightness bubbled in his chest and bounced into his head, and he couldn’t help but smile as he turned to the Red Lion. “Hey, Red, do you really…like him?” Yellow eyes lit up—so _now_  the giant robotic cat listened to him. Keith leaned back against the side of a paw. “Me too.”

The Red Lion’s chest rumbled.

 


End file.
